Living in Hell
by TheUrbanWriter
Summary: He used to be her Draco. But something has taken root in him, something far worse than the vanquished Lord Voldemort. It whispers death in his ears, it spreads blood lust through his veins. She knows he must die. But how can she kill him when he's all she has? When he's everything she knows?
1. Memoirs

_He's holding her down, under the water. Her waving arms and legs thrash about violently, trying to dislodge him. But he holds on tight. She manages to connect her fist with his face, bruising the pale skin. Bubbles stream out of her mouth as she panics. Slowly, her movements grow weaker. When she's at the brink of unconsciousness, he pulls her up, out of the water. _

_She gasps. Air is scraping down her raw throat. Her chest heaves. Moaning, she looks at the face of her attacker. He is glaring at her sadistically. _

"_You are mine," he hisses. "Do you hear me? You are _mine._" As she stares into his grey eyes, she only sees hatred and cold anger._

"_I'm sorry." Her voice sounds rough and it's too painful to talk. _

_He slaps her across the face. Then, leaning towards her, he grabs her chin. "You will _not _say sorry. That is not enough. Here is a reminder of who you belong to." He takes out his wand. A flash of orange light blinds her. Then she screams in pain._

_He has carved one letter into the flesh of her back; D. As a wave of crimson pours onto the grass, she slumps to the floor, black obscuring her vision. The last thing she hears is Draco's voice gently whispering, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry."_


	2. Scars

Everybody passed her in the hallways. They always did. People's eyes slid over her like she wasn't even there. Nobody stopped to chat with Hermione Granger anymore, or bothered to trouble themselves over the girl who had figuratively ceased to exist.

All…except one; she could feel his eyes upon her. It no longer mattered where she went, he was always there. She had tried to ask him why he was following her. Several scars now mar the inside of her arm to serve as a warning. _Never ask questions _he'd said. So that became her first rule, a rule she'd lived by ever since.

She turned a corner, her destination being the Astronomy tower. _The highest room of the highest tower. _ Unbidden, her mind's eye was suddenly obscured by a memory of two young children hidden to the world, sneaking through the castle, holding a box between them. A box which had contained a dragon…

Suddenly, a silver blond head appeared in the darkness. She stopped, a cascade of books falling from her numb arms. His silver eyes burned into hers and his long tapered fingers reached up to take hold of her wrist in an iron grip.

"I saw you staring at Potter." His words were simple, calm even. But she could detect the hidden brewing anger in them.

Her mouth opened. _I'm sorry. _She couldn't say it. After several futile efforts, she gave up. Drawing on months of practice, she shut herself down, retreating to some small safe corner in her mind.

He watched her. His eyes burned to a new height of fury. "Is that all you are able to do?" he hissed, the contempt in his voice now audible. "You remember what I did to you, Hermione!" He turned her arm over and forced her to look at her scars. Inwardly, she recoiled. Then he brought his face close to hers and spat, "I don't ever want to catch you looking at him again! Do you hear me? Or do I need to beat it into you again?" She shook her head. Then he shoved her away from him. Wiping spit from the corner of his mouth, he walked away, his rapid steps keeping time perfectly with the furious pace of her beating heart.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy!"<p>

Professor McGongall's strident voice pierced through his brain, assaulting his ears. Feeling highly resentful, he turned towards the front, matching his teacher's glare.

"Yes, Professor?" As always, his tone was smooth and polite. Bored, even.

The woman sniffed. "When I'm teaching, I prefer my students facing me, Mister Malfoy. Not the other way around," she admonished. The class tittered.

He inclined his head. "Of course, Professor," he said. "Please continue." Her eyes flashed for a second then, thankfully, started warbling on again on the dangers of Animagi.

Assuming a mask of a highly interested student, he went back to brooding over Granger. For the third time in a row, he'd caught her staring at no other but Potter and Weasley. Anger boiled in his gut. She knew what would happen to her and, yet, she still had the audacity to continue staring! Didn't she understand the implications of what she was doing? Didn't she understand that he didn't want to hurt her? And she still dared to provoke him!

"Draco? Hey, Draco!" Irritated, he turned towards Pansy Parkinson. _Would you please disappear? _The corner of his lips curled as he contemplated Parkinson going up into thin air. Her round, pug-like face looked nervous.

"Uhh, Draco?" she said again. Yearning to snarl in her face, he said coolly, "You have just said my name three times already, Pansy. Why don't you just get on with it?" His other idiot friends laughed and applauded as if slighting Pansy meant something.

Looking hurt, she said, "I just wanted to make sure that you're ok."

"Well, I _am _just jolly well," he said. "Now can you please pay attention to what McGongall's saying?" His meaning was clear; _leave me the hell alone. _

Pansy's lips puckered and her eyes looked watery as she turned away. Triumphant, he looked back to see McGongall staring at him, lips stretched tight into a thin line.

"Detention, Malfoy, for interrupting the lesson _again_," she said. Furious, he could only look at her. _How dare she! _She continued, "And Miss Parkinson, too, for talking. I want you both in my office at six o' clock sharp." Then she turned back to the board.

Fury reigned in him. He hissed to Pansy (_the stupid girl_), "You _will _regret this, Parkinson. I _will _make bloody well sure of it." Her originally delighted expression turned into one of shock. He glared at her for a second more then the bell rang. Snatching up bag, he stuffed his quill and book into it and stormed out of the classroom.

Behind him, Blaise Zabini looked after him and wondered.

* * *

><p>Pansy pursed her lips unhappily. "What do you mean, Blaise?" she asked.<p>

Blaise sighed. "Haven't you noticed anything strange about Draco recently?" he asked. "He hasn't been sleeping in his bed, his temper's shorter than usual, and he keeps staring at that Granger girl!"

"The _Mudblood?_" Pansy said scornfully. "Why on earth would Draco want to stare at _her_?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Blaise sighed and closed his eyes. _Actually, on second thought, maybe not. _He grinned.

"Maybe…" Blaise opened his eyes to look at Pansy who seemed to be deep in thought. "Maybe he _likes _her." Blaise stared at her for one whole minute before he burst out laughing.

"_What?" _he said between guffaws. "You can't honestly be _serious, _Pansy!" He actually doubled over laughing. After all, the idea of Draco having feelings for a _Mudblood _was preposterous.

Pansy looked unconvinced.

Seeing that, Blaise calmed down. "Look at the facts, Pansy," he said seriously. "Draco has never shown any affection for the Mudblood. If he had, we as his close friends, would have noticed, right?" Pansy nodded, seeming pleased that she had been counted in as one of Draco's close friends. He continued, "Besides, Draco has always prided himself of the fact that he is a Pureblood. He wouldn't dare to tarnish his honor by associating with somebody like her. Don't you agree?" After a few minutes of biting her lip and contemplating Blaise's words, Pansy nodded.

"Okay then, Blaise," she said, seeming relieved. "Of course Draco would have nothing to do with her…Or anybody else like her."

Blaise said "mm" absently, already thinking about something else. "But one thing is for sure," he said. "Draco has a secret and the Mudblood has something to do with it."

* * *

><p>When Hermione finally got back to the Gryffindor common room, she headed straight to her dormitory. She stepped into the bathroom, and after making sure nobody was there, stripped naked. She took a deep breath to push back the tears. Then she turned towards the wall length mirror.<p>

As always she winced when she saw her reflection. Scars decorated the surface of her body, especially around her arms and legs. Bruises colored her torso where he'd kicked her and sometimes even punched her-directly in her womb. Then she flipped her left wrist upside down. Long, even scars marred the pale skin there. Those weren't made by Draco. No…She slipped a knife from a pocket in her robes and pressed it against her skin. Blood seeped from the cut and pain shot through her brain. Gritting her teeth, she pressed harder. The only thing that matter to her now was the pain…The pain that made her feel like a real person again…The knife fell to the floor, splashing little droplets of blood everywhere. She slumped to the floor.

She remembered when Draco first saw her scars. They'd been talking. He had smiled at her. He'd been so normal back then before he had turned into the bitter, angry person she knew today. He had told her about the 'dark passenger' that lived inside of him. The part of him that didn't want to hurt anybody. Their conversation had hit a lull and, desperate to hear his voice again, she had shown him her scars. She could still feel his hands, so soft and gentle, caressing her wrist. Then he had looked at her, eyes burning into her hers. She saw a flash of sadness then pride and then he had kissed her.

Her sobs echoed throughout the bathroom.


	3. Glimmers of Silver

~Slytherin Common Room, a month later~

"Blaise, what are you doing here?" Draco's hiss cut through the air with the severity of a recently sharpened blade.

The boy jerked in his chair. Flustered, Blaise stood, pushing back his black hair. His normally bored, of-this-earth expression vanished. He stared at Draco's hands.

Draco hastily hid his palms underneath his robes, furiously trying to wipe off the blood. "I said what are you doing here, Zabini?" he asked. His blond hair was disheveled and darkened with sweat. Only the silver streaks in his hair were the same color as always.

Blaise hesitated. "Where did all the blood come from?" he asked. _Now is not the time to confront him. _Blaise could still see quite clearly in his mind's eye the dark red color decorating Draco's hands. And there was a wild look in the boy's ice blue eyes that sent a shiver down Blaise's back.

"Does it matter?" Sweat beaded on Draco's forehead. "Now get out. I need the common room to myself."

Once more, Blaise hesitated. Then he turned on his heel and made for the door that led to the boys' dorm rooms.

"Oh, and Zabini?" Blaise paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

"What?"

"Not a word about this to anyone. If I hear a rumour from the vine that you even breathed a word, I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?" Draco's tone left no room for misunderstanding.

"Of course." Blaise hurriedly opened the door and stepped through it, closing it behind him. He stood there for a moment. The enormity of his situation pierced right through him. He thought of the Granger girl again. _The blood on Draco's hands..._

"It's not any of my business," Blaise muttered, making his way through a green hallway illuminated by flickering silver lamps set in iron sconces. "I should just forget about it," he murmured to himself as he fell into bed without bothering to take off his school robe. But his dreams were full of the Granger girl's face...and hideously red blood on normally pale white hands.

~24 hours later~

A bushy haired girl sits in the Hogwarts library, a book open on her lap. It is turned to page four hundred and forty two but she isn't reading it. Her head is tilted forward, hair falling in a cascade of curls.

A boy lurks behind aisle number 27. From his spot, he is in a perfect position to spy on the girl but not be seen in the process. He has a book in his hands, _100 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Your Way Out Of Hairy Situations!, _but it's all just a facade. An excuse if someone should come by and spot him.

Since the girl appears to be asleep, he puts his book back into it's slot and slowly moves out into the open. He thinks that the Hogwarts librarian and her ratty caretaker boyfriend are the only other two people in the library. He assumes they are busy exchanging various complaints about students and their arrogance which often left books dog-eared and floors streaked with mud.

He takes a seat opposite the girl and sits for awhile, observing her. He uses his wand to levitate her book out of her grasp. It then falls to the table with a thud. She jerks awake and at the sight of the boy, looks terrified. She starts sobbing. Rocking back and forth on her chair, she makes a truly pathetic sight.

The boy pushes his black hair out of his face and leans forward. "I'm Blaise Zabini," he starts. He suddenly looks unsure of himself; as if he has rehearsed his speech and suddenly realizes too late that the words so carefully chosen and honed are all wrong. He hesitates then forges head. "I'm Draco's friend...You do know Draco Malfoy, right?"

She gives a little laugh through her tears.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Blaise says. "I'm not here because of him, by the way. So you can stop trying to attract any unnecessary attention." He decides to be generous, allowing her five minutes to regain her composure. Her demeanor is still cautious. Her eyes are wary of him and his intentions.

"Granger, I'm aware of what he's doing to you," Blaise says then clears his throat. "I'm-"

"What does it matter to you?" He hears the carefully suppressed hatred in her voice. _So much like Draco..._

Her question also catches him off guard. Yes, why does he care? Why is he sitting here now? He carefully avoids her question by giving her one of his own. "Why don't Potter and Weasley know about this?"

The tears glimmer in her eyes. Her lips compress tightly. He knows that he won't get anything more out of her tonight. The silence drags on.

Then-"You should go now," she says. Her tone cuts through the tension, ice sharp and cold as the winter snow. She stands and slings her bag over one shoulder. She walks out of the library without a backward glance.

Blaise sits there awhile longer before departing.

A shadow slides out of the darkness.

"Zabini..." The shadow follows the doomed, ebony-hair boy out of the library, leaving a trace of silver in his wake.


	4. A Warning

Hermione hurried through the hallway. Her head was down and, in her arms, were several thick volumes. She was busy trying to avoid this particularily large group of Hufflepuffs when all of a sudden she stopped. She turned back to the girls, intent on their conversation.

"How long has he been missing?"

"Since yesterday."

"He probably just ran away. Everybody knows-"

"But he can't have. It's impossible to get through the Forbidden Forest without getting mauled by werewolves-or worse!"

"He could've escaped through Hogsmeade."

A girl with rather skin like an albino and green eyes bright with excitement suddenly interjected. "I overheard Snape telling McGongall that nothing was missing from Zabini's dorm. Now, if he was going to run away, wouldn't he also take a couple of things?" Her expression was superior to the other girls and her tone was smug.

The others fell silent. "So what could've happened to him then?" a short, chubby girl whispered. She sounded afraid. "You don't suppose...that he's _dead _or something, do you?"

The girl with pale skin looked at her condescendingly. "Oh, Hilary, of _course _not," she said, her tone scathing. "He's probably just decided to not come to class, that's all." The chubby one bit her lip.

Hermione turned away as the group of girls fell to talking about other things. An icy cold began creeping over her heart. She had always suspected that Draco was watching her. In class, in the hallways, sometimes she could even feel his eyes on her when she lay asleep in her four poster. She had always supposed it was her imagination. And if the what the girls said was accurate, Zabini hadn't been seen since yesterday...yesterday, he had come to talk to her in the library. He had wanted to talk about something that could never be spoken about...Again, Hermione wondered how had he found out.

Lost in thought, she took a wrong turning into a deserted corridor. She had been walking for perhaps 5 minutes when she realized that she was going in the wrong direction. She turned back but then suddenly the light went out. It was utterly, utterly black. _Peruvian Instant Darkness powder, _her mind told her. Then she froze as a hand slithered out of the blackness.

Suddenly, she forced backwards. Her back and head collided with the stone wall behind her so hard that she gasped, seeing stars. Then the pressure on her wrists relaxed. His hands began moving up, up until he reached her neck. He began to squeeze.

"Who. Else. Did. You. Tell," he growled, and with each word he uttered, his stranglehold on her neck grew tighter. "Who! Who did you tell!"

_No one! NO ONE!" _her mind screamed. Her mouth opened and yet no sound came out. She clawed at his hands. _I can't answer you if you don't let go! _Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she was dying. Her chest felt so very tight. Her head was going to explode. She couldn't see..._I'm going to die. _It was a fact, she couldn't fight it...she didn't _want _to fight anymore. Her hands and body went limp. _Draco..._

Hermione felt him let go and she crumpled to the floor, air rushed in her lungs and her chest expanded gratefully. A pang of disappointment went through her. She hadn't died, he wasn't going to let her die until he was through torturing her. Until he had fully broken her spirit. She began sobbing, spasming on the floor where she lay.

"Hermione..." His touch on her cheek was gentle and yet she knew him well enough to detect a slight hint of venom in his voice. She cringed. "Tell me and this will all be over. Who else, besides Zabini, did you tell? Didn't we talk about this, Hermione? I warned you..." Now he sounded sad, so very very sad. She admired his performance. "Do you want to see Zabini? Don't you want to see what your actions has made me do to him? Don't worry, Hermione...you'll get to see him very soon." He carressed her cheek, brushed back her hair. "Who else did you tell? Who else knows about me and you? Answer me. Maybe you'll be spared the tortures I have in mind for you." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. His face could've been made of stone, his eyes ice blue sapphires.

"I..." Her voice grated over her throat. It was painful to talk. She swallowed and tried again, "I...didn't tell...anyone." Her eyes filled as his grip on her chin tightened. "Please...believe me. Please. Please. I didn't tell anyone. Zabini found out. He just found out. I don't know how, I swear!" He threw her away from him. Startled, her head slammed into the floor. A gash opened and blood soaked her coarse, brown hair. Pain consumed her focus.

"You are LYING TO ME!" he roared. Then he was kicking, clawing and screaming at her. She curled up into a ball, trying to protect herself while the blows and abuse rained down. _Please let it end, _she prayed. A hard object came into contact with her ribcage and a sharp crack echoed through the corridor. She barely felt this new gush of pain. "WHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME, HERMIONE? WHY?" He enforced each word with a blow to her head. "WHY DO YOU MAKE ME DO THIS TO YOU?" She heard a new sound, behind the torrent of abuse still issuing forth from his mouth. Grief. He was crying. "You...make me...do this...please, Hermione, just stop..."

What felt like an eternity later, he stopped hitting her. She heard him gasping and crying. She was surprised by the force of his grief. It sounded like he was falling apart, piece by piece. Though the muscles in her neck screamed in protest, she raised her head and stared at him. He was sitting across from her, his back to the wall. His eyes were wide in horror.

"Hermione...Hermione...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. He's making me do this to you. I don't mean to. I don't want to. Oh, Hermione..." His hands tugged at his hair, pulling clumps of the silky, blonde strands out. "I'm so sorry..."

She could see it in his eyes. Her Draco was back. The distance in his eyes was gone, his stone mask shattered into a thousand pieces. They stared at each other, two pawns in a masterful chess game played by an anonymous power. An unseen hand that not even Dumbledore knew about. A dark king who felt Draco's love for the bloody and battered girl that lay across for him and despised Draco for it. He felt the love of thousands and despised them all. _Soon, _he promised himself, _soon...Soon they shall all realize what true power is. _


	5. The Beech Tree

_The couple sat underneath the beech tree, encased in their moment. The love each one felt for the other was so intense, that one could feel it. It electrified the air. It impressed its memory upon the beech tree they sat under, strands of hot, pure love weaving itself into the tree's bark. Forever until its death, this tree would remember the couple that had sat under its branches, the couple whose love was so strong that it had the power to topple mountains and level fortresses. This tree would also remember the darkness that had imposed itself between the boy and the girl. This darkness had made the tree quake so that it's numerous leaves had all fallen off and, for a time, the tree had starved. The darkness despised all forms of love. It was steeped in the pits of hell. Hatred had turned its heart into nothing more than a lump of stone. The darkness was all things bad and the tree shuddered at what it was doing to the boy. The darkness whispered evil into the boy's ear day and night, and in his sleep so that even his dreams would be filled with killing. As it grew, the voices in the boy's head became louder and louder. _

_Now, whenever the couple sat underneath the beech tree, their conversations were full of the boy's "dark passenger". Oftentimes, the tree felt the girl shudder at whatever she saw in her lover's blue eyes. His voice would turn dark, his words bitter. "Who else are you seeing, Hermione? Don't lie to me, bitch!" With horror, the tree felt the darkness take over the boy. The darkness used the boy's form to lay waste to the girl's beautiful face and body. Then the darkness turned elsewhere. One girl would be enough to sate it's appetite-for now. In the meantime, the darkness would use the boy for its own ends. The tree sensed what the darkness was thinking and twisted and turned, its bark creaking in protest. In its own special way, the tree wept for the horror that had been unleashed onto the world's innocents. The boy pointed his wand at the tree. A flash of light lit up the clearing and with a crash, the tree felt itself severed from its roots. The tree felt the boy fall to the floor as the darkness left him. The thing enveloped itself around the tree and ripped away its memory, the strands of love interwoven in between its bark. As the life drained out of the dying beech tree, it felt the darkness' true essence and loathed it. _

_When the darkness had finished with the beech tree, it crawled back into the boy. It banished the boy's spirit into the far nether of his mind. The darkness smiled when it felt the boy's grief. Your love didn't help you, did it, it said to the boy. He forced the boy to look at the broken girl, her stricken eyes boring into his with rock hard intensity. Time for me to play...The boy screamed as the darkness raised his hand, as hatred and anger swept them both away. _


	6. Death

The bright posters decorating the hallways of Hogwarts featured one and only one thing; the coming of another Hogsmeade weekend. Only third years and up were allowed to go and, even then, only those with a signed permission slip from their appointed guardian were allowed to set foot on Hogsmeade soil.

Saturday dawned bright and early. The air was crisp and fresh, it spoke of autumn and even had a hint of winter in it. Argus Filch, the spiteful school caretaker, stood ready with his baton in hand (for bruising students' buttocks and other various parts that were easy to reach) and a scowl.

Inside the castle, the students who wouldn't be going to Hogsmeade that weekend lounged about in their common room or hung out in the library (this wasn't a popular option. Many students didn't think the librarian beneath hexing students who, according to her, weren't handling her books exactly right. Of course, the librarian hadn't hexed anyone-yet-but most people weren't willing to risk being the first one). It just so happened that, on this day, a trouble making sixth year decided to have some fun with a group of first years who were sitting by the fire, playing with a deck of cards.

First, he followed the usual tactic of bullying. The first years barely glanced up, so used they were to having snide remarks aimed their way. The sixth year then made a couple of swings at their reputations. A couple of taunts. A few, well-aimed pencils. Of course, such a thing was unforgivable. Yes, they were small. It was a fact. First years are much smaller than those huge six years you see swaggering down the hallways as if they owned the place. I mean, they are only 11 for goodness' sake! But does that mean 11 year olds can't be brave? No! And that is exactly what one brave little first year pointed out to much laughter and jeering from the sixth year.

"Prove it," said the sixth year. He was getting cocky now as he felt all the eyes in the common room on him. He leaned back into his chair, head cocked to one side, a sneer twisting his face. The brave first year piped up that he _would _prove it. And so would the others! This got a rallying cry from his buddies who all stood and advanced on the sixth year, eager to prove their courage and valor. The sixth year smiled and said mockingly, "Go to the very edge of the Forbidden Forest and stay there for _10 whole minutes._"

The first years fell silent. A hushed quiet fell over the room as everyone watched to see what they would do. Then-they nodded and slipped out.

On their way down, they were silent. Each was engrossed in the possibility of a certain, gruesome death by some wild creature. Or, perhaps, a demon straight from the fiery pits of hell. Which would be worse? Being torn apart by some large thing with 3 inch long teeth? Or being roasted alive eternally in hellfire? Some were tempted to just hang out around the school then go back to the common room and lie, but none wanted to admit cowardice and so they all trooped towards the Forbidden Forest.

It was a beautiful day. But as the Forest loomed nearer and nearer, the cold and darkness suddenly became a lot deeper. Voices seemed to linger in the trees. A presence of evil wrapped around them like a cloak. The first years shuddered and drew closer together. Their eyes darted amongst the tree trunks, trying to spot any potential dangers. One or two took out their wands uncertainly. They knew nothing more than how to make things float and to make sparks fly. Nothing they knew would be of any use in a battle with anything much stronger than a bee.

Suddenly, a first year with bright orange hair spotted something amongst the tree trunks. He nudged a fellow first year and together they stared in horror at a pale white face partially covered by a few leaves. Its mouth was spread in a mean grimace. The glazed eyes were wide in death. A wind tore through the first years, uncovering the face...the body...The boys' eyes widened and they screamed shrilly. The noise ricocheted in the forest, upsetting a cloud of birds which rose from the treetops, singing their displeasure. Their innocence shattered. Their spirits broke as the sheer horror of reality came pouring in.

Zabini Blaise stared with dead eyes at the small group of first years ran back up the hillside, towards Hogwarts. Shreds of red meat dangled from his skull. A black hole gaped in which an eye had once existed. Bits of hair were scattered among the leaves. Half of his face had been torn off.


	7. What Are We All Afraid Of

Hermione could feel the danger creeping up to the castle. The wind whistled through her hair, caressing the bushy strands, whispering softly in her ear. She dangled her feet in the lake, feeling nothing. Her hands were carefully folded in her lap.

She raised her eyes to the forest. She had heard about what had happened to Zabini from the whispers of other students. Dumbledore, McGongall amongst other teachers had hurried down to the forest after a group of first years had reported what they'd seen then collapsed on the cool, marble floor. The whole lot had been taken to Madam Pomfrey and, so she'd heard, they were still there.

Just then, a head broke the waters of the lake. Hermione stared into a merman's eyes, his skin waxy and green and stretched tight over his bones. His expression could have been made of stone. Seaweed hung in ropes from his drenched black hair. Hermione was struck by his unearthly, not-of-this-world beauty.

"You are the girl...?" His rod thin lips moved only slightly and yet Hermione heard every word as clear as day.

She felt that she should be astonished. Merpeople weren't supposed to be able to speak English after all...And yet she wasn't surprised. She wasn't surprised by anything anymore.

His eyes bored into hers. "Hermione Granger..." His voice became a boom, a beautiful song, and the power in his voice was unmistakable. "Something is coming. Some great evil that is not known in this land. If I'm not mistaken, it is already here. It has ensconced itself in the one who is pure. You are not a stupid girl, Granger...Next time he comes to you, you must kill him. If you fail in doing so, everything and everyone you have ever cared about will be lost."

_It has ensconced itself in the one who is pure..._"What is it?" she asked. "What is it called?"

The merman ghosted towards her. His pale green hand, encrusted with scales, reached out towards her and yanked her forward. "Lord Voldemort is nothing compared to him," he whispered, his face very close to hers. "Lord Voldemort gave himself a name and, thus gave something for the people to fear. This evil has no name. It is the Unknown, the thing you most dread. It is the reason why you are afraid of the dark, why you pull the covers over your head at night, why you fear Death..." The merman released her and she scrambled away from him. Fear of his words coursed through her veins.

"I know what you are thinking, Granger girl. You are thinking that there must be some other way to stop this evil other than killing the boy that you love. I am here to tell you that there is no other recourse. Kill it now while it is weak. One life for many...Is that so wrong, Granger?" And with that his head slipped back underneath the waters and he was gone.

"What...what..." She hurried back to the edge of the water, looking for any sign of him. "No! No! Please! There has to be another way! There has to be! DON'T GO! PLEASE!" Suddenly she was angry. Furious. Incensed. All this time...all this time, she had stood his blows and his poisonous words because she believed that there would be a way to bring her Draco back. And now, and now she had been told to kill him! That there was no possible way to bring him back! Her anger was irrational and yet, in that moment, she fully believed that the merman had wronged her in the worst possible way. He had taken her hope and had given her something much worse instead..."Why me?! Why him?! WE DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS! WE NEVER ASKED FOR THIS! THERE HAS TO BE A WAY! COME BACK!" Her wand was in her hand, she shrieked every curse she knew at the water. But the merman didn't come back and, in fact, the wind and trees seemed to be laughing at her...at her pain. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE! YOU'RE NOT HUMAN! YOU DON'T KNOW! DON'T YOU DARE-" Her back was on the ground and she was laughing. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down the sides of her face. "All this time..." Maniacal laughter poured from her throat. And she was laughing because all her life she had been dreaming of being a heroine and now, when she had a chance of actually becoming one, she wished, wished so much, that fate had chosen another girl in another reality, other than Hermione Granger.

_(A/N: Yes, yes, yes the story is coming along slowly now! You have my apologies for that! I've been extremely busy with homework and a SAT test coming up and so this was all I could come up with! I swear, in the next chapter, things will start happening. You have my word on that! Oh, and remember to review! I really don't get enough of those. T^T )_


	8. Realization

_The gates slammed shut with a final clang that spelled the ending for everyone. Hermione stared at the intricately designed metal in horror while screams sounded from the castle. _

-3 months ago-

What had the merman said? She could remember it all very clearly. Selecting yet another book from the library shelf, she carried it to her already heavily laden table and leafed through it furiously. In the space of three hours, she read about spirits, ghosts, poltergeists, possessions...Nothing that even remotely sounded like what the merman had described. The Unknown..but what was the Unknown? She had no mental image of it, knew no distinguishing characteristics it may have.

She closed _MayWitches' Warnings _and rubbed her face tiredly. She was so tired, so very very tired. The only person who knew about this Unknown was in a lake...under several miles of water...the only person...the merman...She suddenly jerked upright. Of course-how could she have missed it? Standing, she hurried into aisle 13 and came back with a very old, dust-covered book. It must be in here, her tired brain murmured, it must be. She found the table of contents and ran her finger down the titles.

Jinnies...red lanterns...frolicking waterbaits...Her finger stopped at the very last title. _Darkness. _Suddenly, she knew this was it. All the answers were there, just waiting to be revealed. All she had to do was go to page 789. And suddenly she was afraid. Her, of all people, the one who most deserved to know, was scared of the truth. She had come here with a mission to save Draco from whatever had taken him away from her. She had spent ges, suffered multiple beatings for him. But what if it was all for nothing? What if the merman was right and the only way to stop this _thing _would also stop Draco's heart?

You have to know, her brain murmured tiredly. Then, of their own accord, her hands started turning the pages of the book. She stared down at page 789, the words blurred for a second, she blinked then the page came back into focus.

_**This is a very obscure monster, known to very few humans, famous amongst merpeople. It is a legend of the unknown. It is believed to have originated in the dark abyss of hell, receiving strength from tortured souls of people who were once evil. How it came to be this way is a mystery. **_

_**It has only been unleashed on this Earth once before, so long ago that it's been forgotten by all humankind. However, merpeople remember it well. It was a time when great slaughter occurred. No species was exempt. Centaurs were brought down, giants toppled from their mighty thrones in the mountains. Then the darkness vanished just as suddenly as it had come. To this day, no one knows why it had gone and few dare to speak of it lest it comes back and they are next to be butchered by an unseen hand. **_

_**In its vast arsenal of weapons, its deadliest is its ability to give birth to the undead-unnatural beings whose existence flouts all natural laws and is a stain in the eyes of Mother Nature. Demons bow at its feet while angels cower in its presence. It will inhabit a one of its choosing who is of true lineage. From pale hands, destruction will flow. Blood will replace the seas. The bodies of the innocents will pave the streets. Once having established its rule, the darkness will rule over a world forged of pain forevermore.**_

Hermione fell away from the book. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her chest felt constricted, like she couldn't get enough air. The image created by the book's words lingered in her mind's eye.

"No," she growled. "No!" And suddenly she was outside of the library, going up the staircase, portraits flashing past her, her heartbeat in her ears, her head feeling as if it was about to explode-her trembling legs stopped in front of the headmaster's office. Exhaustion made her sink to the floor. Only then, she realized that her lips were mouthing one word over and over. "Draco..."

The stone wall in front of her slid open and an old man with flowing, silver hair and beard stepped out. His pale eyebrows raised when he caught sight of her.

"Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise! Why are you on the floor?" He helped her up. "And dusty you are, too! Where have you been?" With a benevolent smile, he took out his wand and magicked the dust off her robes. "There, all better now," he said. His blue eyes flashed as he took in her white face and bloodless lips. "Really! Just where _have _you been? Did the Bloody Baron pop out of a wall and scare you? That's been a favorite past time of his for quite a while now." He chuckled even though his eyes were quite serious behind his glasses.

Hermione shook her head, her heartbeat strong and regular now. Dumbledore's joking had put her much at ease and, even though the book's words still lingered inside her head, she was able to twitch her lips into what resembled a ghost of a smile.

"No, Professor, it's not the Bloody Baron. May we step inside your office? It's really important and I'm afraid what I have to say isn't for just anybody's ears-just yours," Hermione said, surprising herself with her forwardness.

"Well, I was just about to head off to the staff room but that can wait," the headmaster said. He spun around and gave a nod to the gargoyle who promptly stepped aside. The wall slid open once again and the two of them stepped on the moving staircase which took them to Dumbledore's magnificent office.

He took his seat behind his desk and politely magicked a chair for Hermione. "Please sit," he said. She murmured her thanks, sat, and wondered where to begin.

"Sir," she began. As she explained, the sun slid across the sky and the hour ticked later and later while Dumbledore reclined at his chair, piercing her with his brilliant blue eyes. Several times the constricting of her chest made her stop and pause for a moment but shen she regained her pace and continued with her story. She was determined to let Dumbledore know of the danger that was soon to come. She was also surprised he hadn't realized it or taken action sooner.

It was evening when she finally ran out of words to say. Hermione sat there nervously and waited for the headmaster to say something. When he did, the words that came out of his mouth surprised her.

"Miss Granger, have you seen Madam Pomfrey yet?" Dumbledore asked.

"W-what?" she stuttered, shocked. "Professor, you have to believe-"

"Believe that Mr. Malfoy has been torturing you and that some unknown dark force is going to befall the castle? Miss Granger!" He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and for a brief moment she thought his pupils seemed to be curiously opaque. Dumbledore continued, "I understand that the recent war between the Wizarding population and Lord Voldemort has been...traumatizing. More so for you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley seeming as you three were the ones who played huge roles in bringing about the Dark Lord's downfall. Therefore, I won't hold you accountable for this wild tale that you have just told me. Miss Granger..." He sighed and pulled a piece of parchment towards him. Taking out a quill, he started writing with fast, slanting strokes. "Miss Granger, please pass this note along to Madam Pomfrey and she'll tend to you at once and correctly. You will have no need to worry under her care." He rolled up the parchment, tapped it with his wand, and held it out to her. Numbly, she took it.

"Now, I apologize for my utmost rudeness, but I have to attend a staff meeting. If you should have any more concerns, you of course may call on me." He got up from his desk. "Good luck, Miss Granger," and with that he walked her out.

She was left alone in front of the stone wall protecting the headmaster's office. The piece of parchment was still in her hand. "Incendio," she murmured and the note disintegrated in her hands. Hermione had not the least intention of seeing Madam Pomfrey. She would go back to the lake and sit there for the whole night if she had to. She would talk to the merman again and tell him she couldn't do it. She couldn't kill Draco. They would have to find someone else to do the deed.

She was almost to the castle doors when someone with pale blond hair slid out from the gathering shadows. He smiled at her and, for a moment, she thought her old Draco was back.

His eyes were a warm, liquid blue. "Oh, Draco's not back," he said, tracing the designs on the stone wall with one long finger. "It's still me." His smile widened. "You went to see the headmaster." It wasn't a question, just a statement. "Can you tell me why, Hermione?"

"I know what you are." She was suddenly infused with an invigorating courage. "I know how to kill you."

His smile was a bit mocking now. "Yes, you do, Granger. But you know that, to kill me, you must kill poor...little...Draco." He chuckled underneath his breath. The humor of his statement was, however, lost to her. "You are never going to kill Draco. And how do I know that? It's _love. _As for me, I do not love. I do not have a weakness and that's what is going to make it so easy for me to kill everyone you know and love and so many more..." He was nearer to her now and her courage started waning. "It's going to make this so _boring. _I am used to those harder to break." It was as if he was commenting on the weather. He was so very close to her and he extended his hand to lightly run his finger over her cheek. "Don't worry, Hermione, I'll kill you last." And with that, the pale blond boy she loved was gone.

_Hermione looked back towards the castle. The screams were louder now and blood was leeching from the windowsills and doors. Her wand was shaking in her grip. Luna suddenly appeared at one of the windows, her rib cage gone. The girl screamed once more and then exploded against the window, shattering the glass. Gore splattered the lawn. Hermione watched all this and then sprinted for the castle doors. Draco, she thought. She was not prepared for the carnage that met her inside. _

-2 months ago-

They whispered she was crazy. No one wanted to be near her, to talk to her. She could feel their stares on her back, on her face. She _felt _crazy. Even when she was sleep, she dreamed of slaughtered children and the blood that was to come. She had tried to warn them. _The danger's coming! We have to go! We have to prepare! You're all going to die! Why can't you see that? _They didn't listen to her, like Dumbledore hadn't. They stared at her with sympathy and revulsion. She's traumatized from the war, they said. She needs help, they said.

Hermione had gone to the merman. She had told him that she couldn't do it, there was no way she could point her wand at Draco, even though he was a monster, even though everyone was going to die because of her decision. He had listened to her with expressionless eyes and had returned to his home underwater. They were going to prepare for it, she knew. She had seen the centaurs appearing, one by one, from the Forbidden Forest to stare at her. So much accusation in their eyes. _Because of your weakness, thousands will die! _But Draco had been right, the darkness had been right. Love is a weakness and she was fused with it, filled to the brim with it.

She could feel it. The darkness was growing stronger. Hermione stared at the students lounging about the common grounds.

"You're all going to die," she whispered. "And so am I."


	9. Parkinson

Parkinson slams her books down on my desk. I look up at her in surprise and immediately notice the dark circles around her eyes.

"You look terrible, Parkinson," I comment idly.

She looks more than terrible, she looks scared beyond belief. "Granger, you're not crazy, are you." I don't say anything because she doesn't look like she expects an answer.

The girl takes a deep breath. Her eyes jitter in their sockets. "So...that stuff about 'the darkness' and everything...is it all true?" She definitely expects an answer this time and as I stare at her, I see that she believes.

"Yes, unfortunately." I redirect my eyes back to my book. I can tell that Parkinson notices my complete lack of interest in the subject and her irritation is too great for words to describe. Her hands clench and she says through closed teeth, "How can you be so...uninterested in the fact that we're all going to die?"

"I've accepted my fate a long time ago," I reply, looking down at an illustration of water creatures. "You should, too."

I'm surprised when Parkinson slams my book closed. No one has ever dared to do so before. "What is it to you, Parkinson? Remember Zabini?" The last part just slips out. I'd forgotten that Parkinson knew nothing of the circumstances surrounding Zabini's death. I yell at myself. _Now she's next in line because of your clumsiness! _I sigh and shoulder my bag.

"Goodbye, Parkinson," I say and start picking my way through the library. I no longer notice the stares or unnatractive whispers I attract.

Heavy footsteps behind me tells me that Parkinson is following me. I grit my teeth and decide to head to the grounds where, hopefully, I can make the girl back off.

The weather is very nice today, sunny and warm. But there is a darkness inside of me that won't ever go away. I ignore that part and focus instead on choosing the right words to make Parkinson realize the danger she's putting herself in.

"Look," I begin, turning to face her. I stop when I see the hard determination in her face. I change tactics. "You're not going to give up, are you," I say.

She lifts her chin stubbornly even though she must be scared out of her mind. "Not like you are. I don't want to die," she says. Her tone is hard and I find myself liking that about her. I yearn for her kind of strength.

"What exactly do you want from me?"

"I won't lie and say I'm a great student, Granger," she begins. "I need a partner, one I can prepare with. I need someone who can teach me. When this thing comes, we need to be ready for it, right? We need to learn all sorts of spells, fighting tactics. And I want to know what are we going to be fighting."

"Wait," I say. "I need to know something first. Why do you believe that what I say is real? For all you know, I could be lying and 'traumatized'." My own disbelief shows through my words. I am, after all, not crazy. I do not need help.

Parkinson hesitates and I knows she's wondering how much to tell me. "It's Draco," she says finally. "He's so different now...It's just everything that's been happenening and I-" Her breath catches in her throat. "I feel the danger, too. It's so tangible now. It surrounds Draco and the wind whispers it. Everything's warning us, its just that most of us can't understand!" Tears stand out in her eyes.

"I know it's dangerous," she whispers, "especially if _he _finds out. And I'm not stupid, I know Draco had something to do with Zabini's m-murder. But I've no one else to turn to, Granger...I'm the only one who believes you and I believe that you also need me. Two is better than one, right?" And she's looking at me with such hope that I can't refuse.

I pause before- "It's called the unknown," I say, slinging down my bag. I sit down and she follows suit. I tell her everything I know. I don't know what to expect from her but she is right. We need each other. I realize I'm not ready to die.

She interrupts with questions. I am surprised of how practical they are. The girl seems to be infused with a bone deep determination, she is not going to break, this one. As our time draws to a close, I say, "We will have to meet each other as often as possible. I'll bring the necessary spellbooks and we'll practice then." We both stand.

"Parkinson, when the time comes-"

"I'll stick with you, Granger."

We hesitate a few seconds more and in that few seconds, we forge a bond stronger than steel. Two humans connected by the threat of death and instinctive need for survival. We lock eyes and she nods slightly.

"McGongall's classroom? After hours?" she asks.

I nod and we head up to the castle where we then go our separate ways. I find myself praying that Parkinson will make it.


	10. Fear

Parkinson is an able learner. She's not the best student but she catches on quickly. We learn together and we have becomes quite formidable fighters. A week passes and we know that we don't have much time left. Other students are worrying about their homework and when it's due, we worry about the impending danger that threatens us all.

With each passing day, the bond between Parkinson and myself becomes stronger and deeper. I start telling her of the beatings, the life I have led for the past year. She, in turn, tells me of her broken childhood, riddled through with abuse from both parents and her feelings of failure. We comfort each other and I know we're both afraid that one of us might not make it. I am more afraid for Parkinson, however, because she tends to lose her focus when the pressure's on and start cursing things at random. I have introduced meditation to our practice sessions and it seems to help.

Christmas is approaching and I am guessing that's when things will start to go down. As for now, things are relatively calm. The students of Hogwarts have not noticed anything amiss nor has any of the teachers. I still attract whispers and stares but I'm beyond caring.

Parkinson suggested I go to Dumbledore but I told her of my disastrous encounter and I saw in her eyes the hopelessness I once felt. "We're alone, then," she said and I nod, knowing that no words or gestures I made would comfort her in that moment.

The beatings have stopped and now Draco seems to have dissapeared off of the face of the Earth. I worry about him everyday. Parkinson is worried, too. But not over his well-being.

"Does his dissapearance means it's starting? Already?" she is fond of asking. I tell her not yet. It will start when blood is spilled and right now everyone is fine.

I can tell she is scared of the idea of the undead. I have to admit that its a formidable thought. The idea of the dead rising to life only to wreck havoc on the living. It scares me, too but not as much as it does to Parkinson. She is for the living only, she does not like to think of the dead.

I can see it in her eyes, whenever we're practicing. The fear of dying fuels her, motivates her. It's making her into someone who would fight tooth and nail to keep her life. That is her worst fear, I think. To be obliviated and never be able to come back.

-1 month left-

"Hey, that one's pretty good," I say then straighten the pile of cushions we're both using to practice on. "There's still room for a little improvement so try it again."

Parkinson's face contorts and, with lips pressed tightly together, the pile of cushions goes up in flames. I extinguish it and applaud. "You've got the spell now," I say. I check my watch and say, "Our time's up now. We have to head back to our common rooms before someone notices." I look up and see that Parkinson has wandered over to the window. On her face is such a look of concentration and fear that I go to join her.

"They're leaving," she says tonelessly. I see who she means. Animals are moving in one great mass through the Forest. Their movements are why the trees to sway back and forth in unison. Birds fly in great clouds. All are heading to the mountains where they think they'll be protected from the bloodshed that is to come.

"Hopefully, they'll be safe," I murmur. Fear is threatening to cloud my brain so I turn away from the sight.

"Why don't we go, too?" Parkinson asks, her eyes trained on the departing mass of life.

I don't answer.

"It's Draco, isn't it?" she says. I turn and her eyes meet mine. "You're staying because you're still hoping..." She sees the answer in my eyes and nods her understanding.

"I'll stay, too," Parkinson says then turns away. I magick away the pillows and we make ready to leave.

"See you tomorrow," I say before heading back to the Gryffindor common room.

I don't hear the footsteps behind me until it's too late.


	11. A Sunrise

Everything's so dark. Why is everything so dark? What happened to the light? My hands probe the darkness. My chest constricts and I feel panick enveloping me. I don't know where I am and the ground underneath me is so cold.

Why is it so cold? I must be in a dungeon, somewhere far below the castle. To my surprise, I feel the temperature decreasing. How is that possible? my mind whispered. Need to get out, is my next thought. Find a way. Escape. Find Parkinson.

I scramble to my feet and sway unsteadily. My vision is temporarily obscured by bright, white lights then my blood settles and I can see again. _Too loud. You're too loud. _A gut feeling is telling me to be as quiet as possible. Fear is slowly building inside of me.

There is a total absence of sound. The silence is so heavy that it almost feels like it's trying to press me into the ground, into an early grave. My hands are so numb already. Trembling, I draw my wand. _You're deaf and blind, Hermione...You don't even know where you are. Why even bother fighting anymore? You remember what the merman said...Draco can't be saved. He just can't...you could sleep forever, you could be at peace...Isn't that what you want?_

That thought, so alien to me, suddenly appears in my mind. I push it away and immediately another replaces it. _You have the answer right in your hand...all you have to do is point the wand at yourself...and say the magic words. Avada-_

"NO!" To my horror, I realize I am staring at the tip of my wand. My hand unclenches from around its handle and it falls to the ground with a clatter. I grip my head in my hands. "Shut. Up. SHUT UP! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" But I can't stop it. It's like there's a movie reel inside my mind, playing scenes where Draco's hitting me...and I'm re-living all those months of torture all over again. Old wounds are opening...there's so much blood. I'm sinking deep into my mind, my eyes open and my hands are red and I wonder if this really is hell...the awful truth is seared into my mind. _You can't save Parkinson, you can't save Draco, you can't even save yourself...And are you even sure you're not hallucinating?_

"I'M NOT! I AM NOT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME-I KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH! JUST GO AWAY!" Tears run down my face as I slump to the floor, pressing my cheek against the cold, hard cement. "Please..." But it won't stop and I can hear it now. It's mocking me, laughing at me through a veil of red. Its eyes are staring at me, shining with malicious hatred. It brings fire and I should feel warm but I don't...The heat is not warm nor pleasant, it burns. My flesh turns black and flakes of my skin are peeling off and I'm trying to put it back on but it won't stay on. It comes closer and the heat is so unbearable, I'm crying and I understand it all. I understand that there's no point to this life. I understand Draco can't be saved. I understand that everyone in the castle, including Parkinson, will burn tonight and there's nothing that I can do to stop it. This is the worst pain of all. Knowing. I stare into its eyes and I see all the bloodshed and the wars of the past...and suddenly its my hand that's holding a knife that's buried up to its hilt in a child while his mother stares at me with broken eyes. It's my laugh that I'm hearing as I stand in the middle of a field covered with bodies of peasants and kings. It's my hatred, my lust, my thirst for killing. I stare into its eyes and all of its mine. We become one.

Then suddenly the connection is broken. Everything around me shatters into tiny pieces and I'm sucked into a dark tunnel. A great exhaustion seeps through my soul. My eyes close of their own will and my mind is blissfully wiped blank.

I'm awakened to the sound of a cat. I open my eyes and am met with Mrs. Norris' great, luminous orbs. Confusion muddles me but then I break eye contact with Filch's cat and recognize the corridor outside of the Room of Requirement.

Mrs. Norris meows again and I get to my feet and go before Filch arrives. Dealing with the Hogwarts caretaker is the last thing on my to-do list. My breath comes in hitches. The dream is imprinted in my mind and I need to find Parkinson to warn her. I push everything else, the torture and the pain, to the back of my mind. It's not the healthiest thing psychologically but I have no choice.

My ears detect the twittering of birds. I pass a window through which I peer. It's dawn. 6 'o clock. So another day is starting, I think as I stride along. I would run but for fear that the sound of my shoes slapping the marble floor attract Filch.

It takes ten minutes to reach the Gryffindor common room. The Pink Lady is awakes with a start and stares at me with something akin to apprehension in her eyes. She doesn't ask where I've been or what I've been doing.

"Utopia," I say and she opens wide to admit me into the common room.

My four poster looks so inviting. It is difficult to resist from climbing into it and surrendering myself to sleep. I grit my teeth and turn away from it, rifling through my trunk. I try to remain quiet as to not disturb the other girls.

My fingers pass over a little doll. It moves slightly, exposing just the barest shimmer of gold hidden underneath it. It catches my eye and I grab it. It's a Galleon. I clench it in my fist, feeling it grow warm then hot and drop it into my pocket. Parkinson's a light sleeper, I know she'll feel her coin and know that I need to see her.

To my surprise, I feel the coin growing hot in my pocket once again. I take it out and find the word:

_Library _

I'm outside the closed library, having run the whole way. My face is red and sweaty. Parkinson arrives a few minutes later. Her expression is concerned. She takes in my countenance and hastens her last few steps until she's right in front of me.

"Tell me what's wrong," she says and, from my mouth, spills the whole story. The cold, the burning fire..._it..._

When I finish, she doesn't say anything. I stare at her but I can't read what she's thinking. "So it's starting tonight?" she asks and I nod. She stares out a window and I can tell, now, that she's registering what time it is. "Probably 6.30?" she murmurs to herself. I can see her fear now. It mirrors my own.

"Come," she says. "It's time we give it one last go; we're going to tell everyone one last time about what's going to happen. They have to know. And we have to try."

I'm about to protest but then I spot a grief so deep, so vast in her brown eyes that I catch myself and nod instead. I understand that Parkinson needs to do it. It has taken priority in her heart, this is something that has to be done so that when she dies, she'll die without guilt, without the burden of knowing that we let everyone die.

The sun is rising. It's so beautiful. It'll be the last sunrise anyone will see ever again.


	12. The Start of a Goodbye

The sun's rays play gently across my cheekbones, bathing my whole face in a wonderfully delicious warmth. I close my eyes. Let me think of nothing please, I pray and, by some miracle, that prayer is granted. I think of nothing except the uv rays dancing across my skin, trickling into my pores. A feeling of contentment nestles deep inside my chest. I am the happiest I have been in months, right here, laying in the grass, lulled into a doze by the sound of my own beating heart.

One...two..three...four...time passes slowly. Only when the warmth suddenly dissapears am I brought back to reality. I awake and am promptly startled by a pair of warm, dark brown eyes looking down at me. A ring of orange fire circles Pansy's head. She looks so angelic with a halo. Tears escape from her eyes only to trickle down her cheek.

"Nobody believed you." It is a statement, not a question. Pansy nods. She collapses onto the grass next to me.

"Everyone called me a liar," she murmurs. The trickle of tears becomes a flood. Her torso is now shaking uncontrollably and, despite the tremors, she continues, "Every single one of them. Some were laughing outright, others were jeering. Not one of them would believe a Slytherin. I've been ashamed of being of that dark House but this...this _guilt _I felt..." She bites her bottom lip.

I hesitate before sitting up and putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Pansy. At least you tried. You cared enough for that. You cared so much for them that you put yourself in such a spot, knowing they would jeer and not believe, but you still did it anyway. No one can blame you," I say. "Besides..." Stretching my lips into a smile, I turn Pansy's face towards mine. "You are probably the best Slytherin I've ever met. Just because you're from the same House as Voldemort, doesn't mean that you're like him. You're not like him nor are you like any of his filthy Death Eaters. _You're different. _Please believe me when I say that."

Pansy is still for a long time. "Thank you," she whispers finally, her voice thick with tears. "So much, Hermione. You don't know how long it's been since someone has said anything nice to me."

"It's the least I can do."

I put my arms around the girl next to me. "We'll both be fine," I whisper so softly that I know she can't possibly hear. A soft breeze whips my words away. I imagine them traveling far, far off into the mountains, to some distant mountaintop only to drop, one by one, onto the cold snow...

My mind is off on a whole different tangent now. I hesitate for a moment before letting it go.

_We're alone, sitting beside the lake. The boy with the silvery blond hair puts his arm around my shoulders. His eyes twinkle as he senses the tension coursing through my body. _

_"What's wrong?" he asks. _

_"Are you sure we're alone?" My eyes dart about, scanning the grounds, the castle. _

_"Quite sure. But even if anyone just happens to come by and spot us, who's gonna care? It's not a crime to be outside, enjoying this bout of sunny weather we've been having_ _lately," he replies. He tilts his head and, for the briefest moment, his lips touch my eyes close as a shiver of electricity courses through me. "But what is the real problem, 'Mione?" he asks. My eyes remain closed even though I can feel him staring at my face. _

_"Well..." I trail off, unsure of how to explain. My hands feel clammy. A sense of gloom falls over me. He senses the change through the tenseness of my frame and tightens his hold on me. _

_"What's _really _wrong?" he asks in a tone that demands an answer. "Please look at me." I do and he reads my mind. _

_"Is it because I'm pureblood and you're-" He looks quizzical and half shocked._

_"And I'm a a mudblood? Yes," I say, bitterness coloring my words. "Yes, I'm a mudblood."_

_He's quiet for a long moment. Then he tilts my face towards his and, very seriously, says, "Hermione, don't you for one second-_one second-_think I am ashamed to be seen in public with you. Don't you dare think that I am afraid-"his lips curls slightly-"of what anyone else thinks. And that includes my fellow Slytherins. I couldn't care less about any of them. The only persion with opinions that matters to me is you. Only you." And now his expression turns worried. "Unless you're scared of being seen with me. If you are, then that's completely understandable, Hermione. Just tell me if you are." He looks so scared now, though he tries hard not to show it. I can tell that he's afraid of being something that I, Hermione Granger, am not proud of...That couldn't be further from the truth._

_"I-Draco-you," I stutter, surprised that he should think that I'd be ashamed of _him. _"No, of course not. I'm not scared either. I was just worried that you were." _

_"No...no, I'm not," he says, looking out over the lake. The tense wrinkles around his eyes relax and he looks back at me, grinning. "I've always been so proud of you. And I want the whole school to know that. My parents, too, just to spite them." I smile and join him in looking out over the wide expanse of water in front of us. _

_The bond shared between us is so tangible I can feel it tugging on my heart, drawing me closer to the boy next to me. My eyes drift from the water to him and I can't ever imagine myself being held by someone else. _He's beautiful, _I think and smile. He catches me looking at him and grins back at me. "What are you smiling at?" he asks. He lays onto the ground, pulling me with him. I nestle into the crook of his arm and sigh. _

_"Nothing...I was just thinking that you're beautiful." _

_"Oh, really? Think I'd make a good looking girl?" He laughs and I laugh with him, the sound of our laughter intertwining before drifting away on a breeze. I look up at him and finds that he's already looking at me. Our faces drifts closer together, our lips meet._

I awake with a gasp, tears streaming down my cheeks. I touch my lips with two trembling fingers. For a moment, I wonder where the light has gone, where he went, then I remember. I can scarecely believe that I wasn't just there...the kiss felt so real...almost like it actually happened. I close my eyes and try to recapture the feeling.

Pansy stirs next to me. "The light has gone," she says. Panic shoots through me and any pleasant feeling I had before is blown away. My eyes open and we stare at each other for a second.

Without speaking, we both stand. Our feet traipse the school grounds going towards the humongous black castle before us. Squares of orange light are scattered throughout the castle walls and dark shapes would sometimes pass through them, making emphatic gestures. Laughter drifts towards us amongst the sounds of cutlery tinkling and benches being shoved back.

"Room of Requirement?" Pansy asks.

I shake my head. "Great Hall. We need something to eat." Pansy nods and we proceed to the Great Hall where I woodenly shovel food into my mouth. Pansy is ravenous and finishes her dinner longer after I'm already done.

Just as we're about to stand, blackness obscures my vision and a howl rushes through my ears.

A horrible, bloody scene blooms in front of my retinas:

_She's outside the castle. She's running as fast as she can, trying to get away from the monster behind her. I scream at her to run harder but she can't. She's already pushed her limits and she's already running at top speed. I watch in horror as the _thing _chasing after her jumps on her and sinks its teeth in her rib cage. Its neck muscles stand out in full relief as it rips its head backwards. Her body is torn in half, bloody shreds of meat hanging from both ends. Blood spurts out in one huge torrent. To my horror, I see her heart beat once...twice...then it stops. The thing throws her top half as far away as it can. Then it turns back towards the castle, its face shining red in the light coming from my wand. Its eyes are so familiar. A bloodcurdling scream rips through me as realization sets in. How many times have I looked into those eyes? How many times have I turned to those eyes for help? How many times? _

_"RON!"_

My chest is heaving. Prespiration runs down my forehead. I'm lying on the cold stone floor and everyone is staring at me. Pansy is attempting to help me up, her face stricken with worry.

"Come on...come on, let's go. Let's get outta here," she keeps murmuring and numbly I help myself up, leaning on her for support. We stumble out of the hall. I can barely feel my feet supporting me.

Pansy doesn't let go of me until we reach the Room of Requirement. Then she gently lowers me to the floor and stands in front of me.

"What is it? What happened to you back there?" she asks.

"I get...visions," I say, hesitating a bit. I realize too late that I've hesitated too long. A horrendous noise, deep and throbbing, echoes through the castle. Pansy and I both can tell that it's originating from outside.

"It's begun!" she yells. Unspeakable horror wells in the both of us as we turn our faces to look out a window. The Forest is swaying, cracking, moving with some kind of strange force. Dark, irregularly shaped blobs stumble out from amongst the tree trunks. We squint our eyes and move closer to the glass but it's too dark to see clearly outside.

A recent revelation makes us huddle closer together, our eyes now trained on the orange squares of light decorating the school grounds. One by one, they vanish. I turn away to look at the cheerfully glowing torches in the corridor behind us then it's like a hood has fallen over my eyes and I can no longer see anything. It's all dark and, only then, does the screaming begin.


End file.
